


The Short Goodbye

by Hey_You



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_You/pseuds/Hey_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haymitch Abernathy confronts his own mortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been on my mind for awhile now. I wanted to explore the final days of one of the more popular characters of the Hunger Games.
> 
> Hunger Games characters and setting belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> I have a tumblr account where I will post some updates prior to posting here. http://hey-youao.tumblr.com/

It had been years since Haymtich had enjoyed "good health." In fact, so many, he could not remember what it was like to go through a day without the miseries that accompanied his life but somehow he managed.  
  
So it was that one day, he found himself in the tiny District 12 hospital for his annual exam that was four years overdue. Because of who resides in District 12 (and it wasn't Haymitch, alone) the hospital was outfitted with the finest gadgetry.  
  
Haymitch laid very still as the young technician fitted a plastic sheath over his chest and instructed him to breathe normally. "That's right, Mr. Abernathy, in and out, in and … ." There was a long pause. "I'll be right back."  
  
He lay there unphased by the abrupt leave-taking of the young technician. A few moments later, a doctor who was likely in diapers at the time of the last Hunger Games, walked in. "Hello, I'm Dr. Amazing Flaherty," the young woman announced.  
  
"Huh!" Haymitch exclaimed. "District 1?” Old habits died hard. The districts had been renamed a few years after the revolution. She looked momentarily confused.  
  
“Mountain Region,” she answered. The renaming efforts had mostly lacked creativity. “Now, Mr. Abernathy, please lie back. She adjusted the sheath and stared at the wall which appeared blank to Haymitch.  “Hmmm,” was all she allowed after several seconds.  
  
She removed the sheath and probed his midsection with cold fingers. Haymitch winced. “Does that hurt?”  
  
“It doesn’t tickle,” Haymitch grunted.  
  
She then stepped back to survey him. Moving her head from side to side, she looked over his naked chest and leaned closer to examine first his right eye, then his left. “How is your appetite?”  
  
“What appetite?”  
  
“Are you fatigued?”  
  
“Who knows? I sleep so much I really couldn’t tell you.” Haymitch chuckled at his own joke.  
  
“Hmmm,” the doctor responded as she reviewed his chart. “You quit drinking seventeen years ago?”  
  
“I cut back seventeen years ago. I never quit.”  
  
“I see,” she quickly typed a few notes. “Mr. Abernathy, my job is to present facts. The scan indicates you have multiple problems. Advanced liver cancer which apparently has migrated to the bones and lungs. I’m surprised you are not in more pain.”  
  
Her last statement caused him to let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Pain is relative. I’ve found in my lifetime that the worst pain is emotional.”  
  
She blinked several times before continuing, “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that but in short, Mr. Abernathy, your body is cancering. That is, your body is in a state of cancer. There are treatments, but this far advanced would require multiple organ transplants followed by extensive nuclear treatment.”  
  
Haymitch winced. “Lady, I was sixteen-years-old when I won the Hunger Games. Twenty-four years later, I managed to save one of the District tributes, who consequently maneuvered to save the other. A year after that, I  helped engineer a rebellion. That was twenty-eight years ago but every night the nightmares consume me. The number of lives lost because of me directly and indirectly … .” He visibly shuddered. “Maybe it’s time for atonement.”  
  
The doctor cocked her head to the side. “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”  
  
“Bottomline is, I’m tired. Through and through. I’m ready to go.” Haymitch lifted himself up from the cool examining table and began to redress as the young doctor scrutinized him.  
  
“You’re refusing treatment?”  
  
“That’s another way of puttin’ it I guess.”  
  
“But you’re not allowed,” the doctor countered.  
  
“Bullshit! We fought a war to be free of ridiculous mandates. You want to cut me apart and subject me to ’nuclear’ treatments,” he paused for effect, his hands still raised in the “air quote” position. “Bullshit. Try and make me. All I want is to be comfortable for whatever time I have left.  By the way, just how much time would that be?”  
  
The young doctor frowned. “I … I’m not sure. Generally, we treat and await the outcome. We already have your genetic code in the system, and I can calculate your treatment times.”  
  
“I DON’T WANT FUCKING TREATMENT? WHAT PART OF THAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?”  
  
“Don’t raise your voice at me, Mr. Abernathy,” she blew out an exasperated sigh. “One to three months. It’s difficult to know for certain.”  
  
In spite of the fact that Haymitch was ready to die, the short time frame surprised him. The past year had been miserable with each day a little harder to get out of bed. The pain too was considerable, but he had put off treatment until recently despite urgings by Katniss and Peeta. It was Pearl’s prodding though, that finally made him seek answers.  
  
At seventeen, Pearl was the image of her mother save for the blueness of her eyes she inherited from her father. She had plenty of fire like her mother, but her father’s charm. The day she was born was the day he had cut back on drinking. This child wasn’t one that he would come to know for a short time and then drink to forget. She was a long term commitment for him.  
  
Memories of all those days with baby Pearl, toddler Pearl, pre-school Pearl, grade school Pearl, middle school Pearl and finally high school Pearl, flitted across his mind. They had bonded immediately and it was Haymitch she willingly sought out when her parents weren’t available.  
  
Three more babies had arrived, but still Pearl held a coveted spot in his heart. She called him, “Papa” when she was little, eventually changing to “Grandpa” and finally just “Gramps.” It was an honor to hear those names from her lips.  
  
He began to tear up but hastily wiped his eyes not wanting to show weakness in front of the doctor who was still watching him closely.  
  
He finished buttoning his shirt wondering what to say to the doctor. Certainly it was not her fault that he had so little time left. In fact, he grudgingly admitted his own part in his grim reality. Still, thanking her for her diagnosis seemed out of place. “Doctor,” he reached out his hand and nodded once tersely. “I’m sure it goes without saying, but this … remains between the two of us.”  
  
“Of course," she answered cooly, grasping his hand, and pulling away quickly to wipe her hand self-consciously against her pant leg.  
  
“Is dying contagious?” Haymitch wondered with a smirk.  
  
Caught, the doctor’s cheeks flushed slightly before shaking her head.  
  
“Thought not. Just me I guess,” he said, maintaining the same smirk before turning on his heel and walking from the room.  
  
Leaving the hospital, Haymitch pushed thoughts of dying from his head. It was a beautiful spring day. One he would ordinarily ignore, but today he wandered the streets taking in the sights of the vibrant greens of the lawn, trees in bloom and the freshness of the air.  
  
He found his way to the park that Katniss had labored over her first summer in the district. It was a piece of her beloved woods right in the heart of the town. He remembered the day he found Katniss leading a group of workers as they transplanted flowers. Haymitch had chided her then but today, he admired the tangled garden of wild flowers in front of him.  
  
Every plant and tree had been dug from the surrounding hills and brought to this place. It was Peeta’s idea to memorialize lost loved ones by naming trees and sections in their honors. A grove of maples commemorated “The Bakers Family.” A tall spruce towered above the park in honor of Reht Everdeen.  
  
Central to the park was an oak tree marked in honor of “Madge”. Unique to her plaque was the tiny Mockingjay symbol in the corner. On the day of dedication, Katniss revealed  the significance.  
  
A garden of primroses grew to the side of the pond which housed real fish. No one needed to find the plaque to know in whose honor those bushes grew.  
  
Haymitch sighed as he made his way across the small walking bridge that spanned the pond. He stopped part way and looked around. District 12. Appalachia. For years, Haymitch had shunned the name, but with death on his doorstep, he looked at his surroundings and realized the new name conveyed the new reality.  
  
District 12 had indeed died in the fire. Appalachia was by far a better name. Like many good things in their town, the name had been Peeta’s idea. He had researched the history and discovered the name had once been a generalization for the region. Peeta had been hurt when Haymitch told him that a fancy name would not change the fact it would always be District 12 to him. “Leopard can’t change its spots.”  
  
Regrets. His life was full of them. Words spoken without consideration. He had hurt both Katniss and Peeta with his thoughtlessness through the years. Still, they had kept coming back.  
  
Haymitch inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet smells around him. He didn’t give much credence to psychological mumbo jumbo but he still wondered what compelled him to bait and tease the pair. Jealousy? Bitterness? Anger? Maybe a combination of these and more. He chose not to dwell on it.  
  
He wandered a little further and came across the patch of orchids. Effie’s contribution that year she chose to live in the area. Another regret. Effie was looking to up the ante on their relationship. During the course of the twelve years they were partnered for the Hunger Games, they had bickered and bedded one another. Loved and mourned the loss of twenty-two children.  
  
Effie arrived two years after the rebellion, a little more worn than he was accustomed to seeing her. A little less abrasive. She settled into Peeta’s old house which had a revolving set of occupants.  
  
She hired a maid for Haymitch, and supervised the cleaning of his home from top to bottom. During the Hunger Games, she tolerated his boozing, but by the time she resolved to make an honest man of him, she sniffed in disgust when she encountered him drunk — a near daily experience.  
  
Still, she was relentless. She chattered on about remodeling and cooking lessons. One day, she broached the subject of children and it was that day that he broke her heart. Effie returned to the Capitol with barely a backward glance. Each year, he got a bright card from her detailing her life, but then so did the thousand others on her address list.  
  
Effie returned every few years to visit Katniss and Peeta and eventually their growing family, but she carefully avoided Haymitch. When chance brought them together, she turned away and sought refuge in the company of someone else.  
  
Haymitch exited the park on the side closest to Merchant Square. He squinted as he surveyed the various storefronts that surrounded the area. It was exactly square but rather, “U” shaped with the street bordering one side but it was impressive. The New Hob took up nearly an entire block. Mellark’s Bakery was on the opposite side.  
  
Without thinking, he moved in the direction of the bakery. A small bell announced his arrival. A mop of blonde curls turned to greet him, a broad smile brightening his face. “Boy!”  
  
“Grandpa!” The boy greeted. Koal was Peeta and Katniss’s oldest son, and at fourteen, a picture of his father, except for the gray eyes he inherited from his mother. He had his father’s eye for art but his mother’s generally reserved nature. He saved his smiles for the people he liked best.  
  
“Haymitch!” Peeta made his way from the back, his white t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. With his still narrow waist and blonde hair, he could easily pass for a man in his 30s. The years had been good to the original “Boy.”  
  
Haymitch swallowed a lump as he tried to focus. There was so much to say and so little time to say it. “How are you doing?” He turned quickly to the display case that was still crowded with fresh pastry. Peeta kept the prices low and shelves full. Right up until mid-afternoon, a customer could find the freshest pastry. Rarely, Peeta carried over his goodies for the day-old shelf, but when that happened, he offered them free.  
  
“Good, I’m good. We’re headed to the lake this weekend, would you like to join us?”  
  
“Uh … no … no, thank you.”  
  
Peeta tipped his head and stared at him quizzically. “How did your appointment go?”  
  
“Fine. Just fine. Fit as a fiddle and … .” His voice sounded foreign even to himself.  
  
“Haymitch,” Peeta said gently, as he reached out his hand and touched Haymitch’s arm.  “Let’s go out to the kitchen. Koal, will you watch the front?” The boy nodded, a bit confused because “watching the front” was his job whenever he had time from school.  
  
Peeta led Haymitch to the back. As they rounded the industrial-sized ovens, Haymitch saw Katniss leaning against the counter. “Sweetheart,” he greeted, resurrecting his nickname for her that had fallen by the wayside over the years. Katniss arched her eyebrows in her direction.  
  
Katniss was still a head-turner. Like Peeta, the years since the rebellion had been kinder toward her and she retained her trim waist despite the fact that she had borne four babies. Her hair was still rich and dark, and her face remarkably free of any signs of age. Johanna told her it was because she had found the love of her life. Katniss would laugh but never contradicted her.  
  
Every year, the Capitol published a magazine featuring the most beautiful in the United Republic. Without fail, Katniss ranked in the top ten. Katniss didn’t actually participate in this event, and in fact, had refused interviews for the past twenty-five years. Still, Plutarch Heavensbee featured her picture on the cover, and included whatever tidbits he could dig up.  
  
“Sweetheart?” Her tone laced with parts confusion and sarcasm.  
  
Haymitch smirked. His mind had rewound to his first meeting with the pair. Peeta with his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, sitting distractedly alongside the brunette with her steely gray eyes. Haymitch winced at the memory of how he had berated the pair but years of losing tributes had taught him to keep them beyond arm’s distance.  
  
Slowly, the two wound their way into his heart, chipping away the icy exterior. He hadn’t meant to care, and when he discovered his changing feelings, it was for Peeta first. But it was also the boy who approached him about his feelings for the girl, and subsequently revealed his plan to save her. He begged Haymitch to choose her and rationalized that she stood a better chance anyway.  
  
In the remaining days of training, Haymitch grudgingly realized he cared for both. Katniss and he were cut from the same cloth. Seam cloth. But he had come to respect Peeta’s charm and his way with words.  
  
“Haymitch?” It was Peeta who pulled him back to the present. Haymitch narrowed his eyes and looked at the couple for a long minute before shaking his head slightly.  
  
“Lost in yesterday, I guess. Who would have guessed that the Ice Princess would melt to Prince Charming. A fairytale I guess.” Haymitch didn’t intend his words to be cutting but they were.  
  
Katniss scowled and Peeta frowned. “She’s rubbing off on you, kid.”  
  
“What the hell, Haymitch?  Did you just come here to insult us?” Haymitch chuckled at Katniss’s words. Direct and to the point.  
  
He really hadn’t intended to tell anyone about his visit to the doctor, and would have preferred to keep it entirely to himself. Ultimately, he wanted to slip quietly away, but somehow he knew the coming months would be anything but quietly slipping away.  
  
“I … uh … there’s no way to sugarcoat this … this morning, the doc found some … that is … I’m … uh ….” Haymitch watched as Peeta pulled Katniss closer, and it dawned on him that they suspected the worst, so he blurted, “I’m cancering.”  
  
Cancering. A verb used to describe the state of someone with the condition of cancer. It carried with it the grim reality of the situation.  
  
Peeta exhaled quickly and glanced at Katniss, who had yet to react. “Okay. You can move in with us through treatment.  Whatever you need … .”  
  
But Haymitch cut him off, “Hold on now there, Boy. I’m not putting you out and I’m not … seeking treatment either.”  
  
Peeta appeared shocked while Katniss’s face remained a mask. “No. Haymitch, you need to seek treatment. There’s no choice.” Peeta’s voice had taken on his well-practiced parental tone.  
  
Haymitch shook his head defiantly, not unlike their five-year-old son, Hunter. God, he would miss watching the kids grow up. “No, Peeta, I’m not. I’m not getting treatment,” his voice was hard. “I’m … tired. It’s been a long life. A hell of a lot longer than it should have been.” He turned away.  
  
Katniss sighed. “Haymitch, for the kids, for Pearl … .”  
  
“You don’t understand, Katniss. This is for the kids. For Flo Jansen, Chance Mangren, Isabel Townsend … .” Haymitch was listing the children he mentored through the years. “Scottie Edwards. Did I ever tell you about Scottie? He was my fourth boy. Back when I still gave a damn about the kids. He was the only son of Clem Edwards. Remember him? Crazy as a Loon Clem. He used to be Mayor, and I’ll never forget the look on his face when I drew Scottie’s name. I swore I thought he was going to fall right off the stage. Scottie was twelve. Not the kind of twelve that is almost thirteen but twelve as in turned twelve the day before the reaping. Really, still eleven."  
  
Haymitch drew in a deep breath, his eyes far away. “He was four-foot nothing, skinny little whelp of a guy. Had a condition called anemia. Clem tried to get him exempted and I would swear that put the spotlight on that boy more than if he had left well enough alone.  Clem came to me though, before the train left and asked me to make sure his boy didn’t suffer. I was all of twenty but I remember nodding my head.”  
  
He slumped against the wall of the bakery before continuing. “They had a cure for him in the Capitol which helped him get through training. Remember Tigress?” Both Peeta and Katniss nodded. “She was the stylist and she and I had … a thing. I slipped her a piece of gum laced with poison and instructed her to give it to him in the chamber. Everything was so well calculated … body weight, poison, time lapse. The countdown ended and Scottie simply fell to the ground. Dead. By my own hand.”  
  
Haymitch shook his head, “That’s when the bottle became my only refuge. Drink to forget. These past seventeen years though, I haven’t gotten so much as a good buzz on and those kids still visit me nightly. All of them. Like some ghoulish parade, and I know what they want. They want me. I failed them in life, I need to be with them in death.”  
  
Peeta and Katniss were quiet, waiting for him to continue. “Your Pearl is going to be just fine. She’s never known loss like you two did at her age. She’s bright and well adjusted, which considering where the two of you were at her age, is pretty impressive.”  
  
“Haymitch, you … you need to at least try, otherwise it’s … .” But Katniss didn’t finish.  
  
“Selfish, sweetheart? Yes it is, I suppose. But through the years, I’ve become a very selfish man. Like it or not, this is my decision.”  
  
Peeta and Katniss exchanged a glance but it’s Katniss who spoke. “I’m not going to say I agree with you, but it is your decision and I’ll not persuade you otherwise.” Peeta nodded his ascent as his arm went around her shoulders, drawing her to him.  
  
Haymitch stood for a moment, looking at the pair before shaking his head slightly. Tears were threatening and he hated his momentary weakness. “I … uh … this is long overdue but … I … I wanted to apologize.” The pair’s faces reflected confused scowls, and he almost lost his nerve to continue. “Peeta, I never gave you enough credit during those first games. I never thought you had it in you to actually get the girl. But … I … I’m sorry for abandoning you during the second. I should have fought harder to rescue you too. We had you on radar, we knew where you were and it would have only taken a few seconds … .”  
  
“Stop!” Peeta’s voice was harsh, his breathing a bit ragged, his eyes a stormy blue. Haymitch worried that he might have brought on an episode. “You left me behind on purpose, Haymitch. I always wondered, you know.” He stalked off before Haymitch could continue his apology. After a withering look, Katniss followed. Haymitch’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He never intended to tell Peeta the full story of what happened that night.  
  
He huffed out a breath and then headed toward his home in the Village — renamed in the years following the rebellion. The Village. Ironically, the homes there were still mostly occupied by former victors. Peeta and Katniss, Johanna, Haymitch, even Annie and Beetee had homes there. Birds of a feather flock together.  
  
Out of long forgotten habit, he headed to the cupboard, his eyes searching the shelves in vain. He needed a drink. In fact, the need was so great that it’s gone far beyond the want stage to such a profound craving, his hands shook.  
  
“Damn,” he whispered, in spite of the fact that no one was within hearing distance. Foul language was eradicated about the same time his drinking diminished. Hastily, he pulled canned goods from the shelves, getting a stool to check the recesses of the highest shelf before moving to the next cupboard. And the next.  
  
Eventually, his cupboards were bare and the contents was strewn about the counter tops. But no liquor. He scrubbed his hand across the ever-present stubble and then headed toward the living room where he conducted another pointless search. Over the course of seventeen years, he had kept only a single bottle in the house at any given time.  
  
One by one he methodically searched each room to no avail. Finally, he slumped in defeat at the foot of his bed. Of course, District 12 now has a bar which is an option but not really. He hasn’t darkened the door of the small tavern in years. His liquor arrived in plain brown wrapped packages. One bottle a week. Evenly portioned out, it lasted the whole week until the next one arrived.  
  
The tears flowed then. Hot bitter tears. Tears for the boy with dreams that became a man by outlasting forty-seven children. Tears for the man who never fulfilled the dreams of the boy. Tears for the children who never had a chance to experience life. Finally, tears for the boy who defied the odds and managed to overcome torture.  
  
But not one tear was shed in regret of his current situation. In some ways, his impending death marked the end of a very long, very dark, tunnel.


	2. Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters and settings are the property of Suzanne Collins.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you care to look me up on Tumblr, you can find me a hey-youao.

“Daddy?” Peeta turned quickly toward his five-year-old son, Hunter, who inherited his dark good looks and grey eyes from his mother. But the curliness of his hair, crooked smile, eye shape and general demeanor were all his father.  
  
Hunter quickly brushed the remnants of tears from his cheeks. “What’s up, Lil Man?” Peeta questioned as he kneeled to engulf him in a hug.  
  
Hunter hugged him tightly before releasing a sigh. “Harold bit me and Grandpa yelled at me,” he whispered, his voice wavering slightly. Harold was an old gander and patriarch of Haymitch’s flock of geese. As ornery and ill tempered as his owner, Harold was known to pinch passersby with his beak. Still, Peeta felt anger rising within himself as he picked up Hunter. Numerous times he had warned Haymitch about the cantankerous old bird but still Haymitch had done nothing.  
  
“Where did he bite you?” Peeta’s eyes searched his little boy.  
  
“Right here,” Hunter indicated the back of his shin where a deep red blotch was already forming. Peeta frowned as he rubbed his leg gently.  
  
“Would a kiss make it better?”  
  
Hunter bit his lip and nodded as Peeta bent his head and pressed a soft kiss on the welt. “One from Mommy too.”  
  
Peeta glanced at the clock. “She should be home in a few minutes.”  
  
“Is she huntin’?”  
  
“No, she just went to town with Pearl to pick up some food for supper. Maybe I’ll call her and ask for some pudding for supper?”  
  
Hunter smiled and nodded happily. Peeta took a long moment to appreciate his youngest. When he and Katniss first came together, children were a far distant dream. He was well aware of the fact that Katniss did not want children and he was content just to have her as his wife.  
  
He wasn’t certain just what changed her mind but he would never forget the morning she told him she wanted a child. Just one. But it didn’t matter, Pearl Hope was conceived closely on the heals of her decision. While the pregnancy was sometimes difficult and Katniss vacillated between brief periods of calm and outright panic, the day Pearl was delivered was one of the happiest.  
  
Oftentimes when his beautiful teenage daughter entered the room he would grow nostalgic remembering the moment he laid eyes on her for the first time. Dark hair and wide blue eyes had greeted him as he held her in his arms. Peeta had accounted for every finger and toe, and taken time to admire her perfect ears, and her sweet baby cheeks.  
  
Pearl was their pride and joy. They enjoyed every moment as new parents, learning together about diaper changing, breast and bottle feeding, and dressing the tiny girl. Katniss had never realized how she could instantly love someone until Pearl’s birth.  
  
The notion of “just one” swiftly evolved into maybe just one more. Koal Jamus joined the family nearly three years to the day following Pearl’s birth. Koal sported the Mellark blonde hair with gentle waves and Peeta was ecstatic when his eyes evolved from baby blue to the smoky grey of his mother. At that moment, in Peeta’s eyes his family was complete.  
  
Koal was more reserved than Pearl as a baby. His smiles were fewer, and he had a fussy side that only Katniss or Peeta could quiet. He loved his mother’s singing, and a lullaby was a necessity on a nightly basis. Even before he could properly speak, he would sing along in perfect pitch baby babble.  
  
As a toddler, they discovered his artistic side. He loved to blend colors and showed his father’s gift for painting. But it was his voice that amazed visitors and it became clear that he had inherited his mother’s voice.  
  
Koal was well on his way to his sixth birthday, when Katniss entered the bakery, a look somewhere between sheer panic and outright joy lingered on her face. “Pregnant,” fell from her lips as she collapsed into Peeta’s arms. The pregnancy was completely uneventful, and for the first time Katniss thoroughly enjoyed every facet.  
  
Ivy Grace joined the family with a light down of blonde hair and blue eyes. For half a second, Katniss eyes reflected a bit of sadness, but she blinked away the tears and kissed her forehead.  
  
Her birth had a profound effect on Katniss. Even as a tiny baby, she managed to heal her mother’s heart when it came to her lost sister, Prim. Peeta would come home from the bakery and find her speaking softly to the tiny baby recounting details of her lost sister. Katniss’s nightmares diminished even more, and the days when she couldn’t leave her bed were fewer and further between.  
  
Daily, Ivy was growing to be the healer, concerned about the well being of everything around her. At eight, she displayed all the characteristics necessary to be the doctor she someday wanted to become.  
  
Once again, Peeta believed his family to be complete. But the little charmer in his arms had other plans. Or rather, Katniss did and the little charmer was the result. Hunter Joseph definitely completed the family. Born with dark hair that initially gently waved in the back and blue eyes that quickly turned gray, he smiled early and often.  
  
Hunter loved to be held, and even more, loved to be cuddled. Of all the children, he was the most content as a baby, smiling and cooing to himself. He laughed early, a full on belly laugh, and his eyes twinkled with merriment.  
  
He was everyone’s baby. Pearl loved to hold him in the rocking chair and sing to him, while Koal would play endlessly with him. But he was closest to Ivy, who he followed everywhere.  
  
“Pudding, Daddy?” Hunter’s voice called Peeta back to the present.  
  
“On it, Little Man,” but before he could call, the back door opened as Katniss and Pearl walked in.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Katniss demanded as she crossed to Hunter. She had all the instincts of a mama bear when it came to protecting her babies. She quickly scanned her youngest son for signs of wounded knees or cut fingers.  
  
“Harold bit me and Grandpa yelled at me,” Hunter whimpered, and his eyes clouded with tears once again as his mother reached for him.  
  
Peeta chuckled knowing that several minutes had passed since the initial assault but Hunter knew his mother well, and he knew that she loved to dote on him.  
  
“Where did he bite you?” Katniss’s voice was soft as he pulled up his pant leg to give her access to the welt. “Ohhh! Did Daddy kiss it for you?”  
  
“Yeah, but it could use another kiss.”  
  
“Okay.” She bent to kiss his chubby leg. “Better?” She couldn’t resist his knee as she pressed her lips to an old “owie.” Hunter nodded happily and reached for a hug that he knew was forthcoming.  
  
“Why did Grandpa yell at you?” Pearl asked, frowning as she spoke. Hunter shrugged. “Well what did he say?”  
  
Hunter twisted his mouth and looked to his parents, “He said … bad words.” His voice dropped to a whisper.  
  
“What did he say, Hunter?” Katniss pursed her lips.  
  
“He said, ‘You there, little boy, get the bad word out of my bad word yard and leave my bad word birds alone. I’m sick of you little brats.’” His lips trembled as he finished. No one had ever raised their voice to him.  
  
“That doesn’t sound like him,” Pearl said as her frown deepened.  
  
Katniss and Peeta exchanged a glance. “I will go over there,” Katniss said briskly.  
  
“No, let me.” Katniss shook her head quickly, and started to move past him. “Katniss,” he reached for her hand, and looked deeply at her. “I need to.” Katniss returned the glance and then reached for Hunter. Once he was settled in her arms, she leaned in and kissed Peeta gently on the lips.”  
  
“I love you, Peeta.”  
  
“I love you, too,” he answered as he headed to the door.  
  
He crossed the street and pushed Haymitch’s door open. The aroma of sweat and vomit hit him like a train, and he recoiled. It had been years since the smell of Haymitch’s home had been this overpowering, and he wondered if Haymitch was on a drunk again.  
  
Peeta took a moment to acclimate to the odor before moving toward the darkened living room. “Here to avenge the Baby Brat?” Haymitch’s voice was hoarse. Peeta felt his anger rising at the words. He was immune to personal criticism but would not tolerate critical words directed toward Katniss or their children.  
  
He jerked a kitchen chair toward himself and turned its back toward Haymitch. Peeta straddled the chair and brought his arms to rest on the back. “Confession is good for the soul, Haymitch. Here’s your chance.”  
  
“Soul? I sold that to the devil years ago.” Haymitch laughed without mirth.  
  
Peeta merely sat silently waiting for Haymitch to speak again. It was a battle of wills and more than a quarter of a century in close quarters with Katniss had taught Peeta patience.  
  
Haymitch broke first exhaling a long breath. “Boy … Peeta … when I first met you I underestimated you. I didn’t fully … appreciate you or your intellect. I thought you were just a lovestruck kid, but really you had more strength and tenacity than I ever imagined.” He paused waiting for Peeta to speak, but he remained quiet.  
  
“When Katniss befriended Rue, I knew she was either incredibly stupid or so self-assured that she didn’t care that little girl didn’t have a chance. When she shot Marvel point-blank, I knew it was the latter, and when she took time to mourn her with dignity, I knew she embodied the characteristics we had been searching for. District 11 erupted like the tinder box it was, and I knew that I had to keep her alive at all costs.”  
  
“Katniss wasn’t self-assured, Haymitch. God! You turned her into a revolutionary because you misinterpreted her actions,” Peeta was frustrated and nearly spat the words. “Compassion. She knew Rue stood no chance, and I would bet my last dollar if they had survived to the end, Katniss would have killed herself to give Rue a chance.”  
  
Haymitch’s eyes searched the room for something that no longer existed and continued as if Peeta had not spoken. “I went to Crane and proposed the young lovers angle and,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that, the possibilities were endless. She went on a crusade across the arena to find you, and once she did, she endeared herself to everyone. Caring for you. Risking her life for you. I was pretty certain the rules would change if you made it to the end, and sure enough, when they did, you did exactly what I expected. You fell on your sword, and then she did the unexpected and pulled those berries. She lit the last match.”  
  
He struggled to his feet and headed to the window. Standing with his back to Peeta, “We had our leader. The next months were a debate. Coin wanted you. Plutarch wanted Katniss. It was his idea to use victors for the Quarter Quell.”  
  
“Wait. What?”  
  
Haymitch huffed a breath. “That’s right. He wanted to build up Katniss’s persona to a crescendo. He wanted to anger the districts and bring Katniss out alive. We had some districts on our side, so it was a matter of getting the right people into the arena to protect Katniss.”  
  
“I was never intended to survive, was I?”  
  
Haymitch turned and Peeta could read the pain in his eyes. “Boy, I … let me ask you something. How scripted were your interviews with Flickerman before you were rescued?”  
  
Peeta frowned. It had been a long time, and his memories were vague, but he did recall some things that were said. Things like not wanting the rebellion to kill off the district populations. “I suppose somewhat. But the things I said about not wanting the rebellion wiping out the districts, that was real, I guess.”  
  
Haymitch nodded. “See, I started to suspect that Katniss had feelings for you on the train when she let you into her bed.”  
  
“Nothing happened.”  
  
Haymitch snorted a laugh, “Doesn’t matter. She never let Gale into her bed … friend or lover. Then, when they announced the Quarter Quell, and she finally worked out all the possibilities she wanted me to do everything in my power to save you. That’s when I knew for sure and it was my, ‘oh shit’ moment. So, I went to the group and proposed saving you. Letting you into the plan. But … .”  
  
His story stopped there and he stared at Peeta for a long moment. “Dammit Peeta, you weren’t part of the plan. Coin wanted you but dammit if, given the choice of peace or a revolution, you would’ve chosen peace, and I know it.”  
  
“You didn’t give me a chance, Haymitch. You didn’t know what I would’ve chosen.”  
  
Haymitch concedes with a single shake of the head. “The drawing was a setup. My name was in the bowl twice.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Look, … Peeta. Would you have been happy if your name was drawn, and I had stepped forward to volunteer in your place? You were hell bent on going back in and I knew it. If your name was drawn, I had promised Katniss that I would volunteer and that couldn’t happen.”  
  
Peeta’s face flushed, his eyes a stormy blue. He gripped his hands together until his knuckles were white. “I don’t care about any of that, Haymitch. You’re right, I wouldn’t have entrusted her safety to you in that arena but I think I figured something else out while you talked. You thought I was better off dead.” His voice was dull, emotionless.  
  
Haymitch held his gaze for several seconds before dropping his eyes in shame. “You didn’t want to come out alive, remember?” He was trying to hold on to the only fact that had sustained him during those games and the weeks that followed. It was the fact that justified his actions after the arena exploded.  
  
“I didn’t know about the post game plans. I had no chance to alter my thinking. I expected the fight would continue until only one survived, and that would be Katniss. It had to be Katniss. But … it hurt then to know that you were part of a larger plan and you didn’t bother to tell us. What the hell, Haymitch? Where was the trust?”  
  
Haymitch didn’t have an answer. Anything he might have said sounded hollow when considering what Peeta endured at the hands of Snow.  
  
Minutes slipped by and Peeta waited. Waited for some words of explanation. Finally, Haymitch spoke again. “Peeta, I’m sorry. I figured that you would talk Katniss out of being the Mockingjay. I figured that you would think that words were better than actions but sometimes actions are the only means to an end. I … .”  
  
“Stop!” Peeta held his hand up silencing the old man. “You were damn selfish, and that doesn’t surprise me. The districts came damn close to annihilation and … you made a choice that nearly killed me. Or … or worse, Haymitch, what if I couldn’t be rehabilitated? What if I had lived my life in that confusing world not knowing what was real or not real? Consumed by fear and hatred and … .”  
  
Peeta shuddered as he stood. “Boy, I’m sorry, really I am.” Peeta shrugged helplessly. “If I could go back and change everything, I would. I realized too late how much of a team you two really were. I’m sorry that I didn’t immediately insist that we rescue you. But you did make it back! You’re rehabilitated, you’re … .”  
  
“Save it!” Peeta’s voice was unexpectedly harsh. “You have no idea do you? Do you know what it’s like to never know if I will slip back into the monster Snow created? Do you know what it’s like to fear the future because there are no guarantees?” His breathing was heavy.  
  
Peeta’s demeanor alarmed Haymitch. It had been years since Peeta had an episode, and he believed they were well past that but now he seemed on the verge of losing control. “Peeta, look at me, what are you talking about? You’re fine now. You’re … .”  
  
But Peeta cut him off. “Fine? Everyday I wake up, I thank God for giving me another day with my family.” He turned away quickly but Haymitch caught his sleeve. Several seconds passed by before he spoke again and when he did, his voice betrayed his inner turmoil. “Dr. Aurelius told me years ago that I was the only person known to have survived hijacking without going completely mad. He told me that he could never guarantee that I wouldn’t relapse and go totally insane. I kept it from Katniss for years and it broke me to finally tell her.”  
  
Peeta drew in a shaky breath. “I would die, Haymitch, die before I hurt my family but I live in fear of the possibility that someday I might … .”  
  
“Stop! You’re not going to snap and you have to quit thinking that way. It’s been nearly three decades. When was the last time you had any kind of episode?” Peeta simply shook his head in response. “You know why I know you’re never going to snap? Because of Katniss and Pearl and Koal and Ivy Grace, and that little one … Hunter. You’re never going to lose it because they won’t let you and you won’t let yourself. These aren’t just words, Peeta. They’re fact. I know you. I know how hard you fought and I know how hard she fought to get you back.”  
  
“But … what if?”  
  
“Don’t give that ‘what if’ bullshit, Peeta.” Haymitch was transformed back to his old “mentor mentality.” Tough love. “Peeta, you are going to live to be an old man, surrounded by all those you love. You’re not going to slip away from them. I know this.” Peeta looked at him uncertainly, a small bit of hope evident. “Just because you’re the first one to survive doesn’t mean that you will relapse. It just means that no one had the resiliency to overcome the way you did. You are strong, Peeta. Not just physically, but mentally. Plus, you have something that most of the others never had. Unconditional love, Peeta. Katniss is never going to give up on you and you can’t ever give up on yourself.”  
  
Peeta brushed his eyes roughly wiping away the tears. “Years ago, Haymitch, I reconciled myself to your choice. I would have wanted you to choose her. I know it. It just … I never expected you to bring it up.”  
  
“I’m sorry. I know words are hollow, but I wished then, and I wish now, that I could have switched places with you. I needed you to know, Peeta, and from that moment in the hovercraft when we pulled  away, I have regretted those last moments in the arena. We should’ve gotten you out too.”  
  
Peeta’s ran his hand through his hair. “What about Johanna or Annie? Surely you could have taken Annie with you.”  
  
Haymitch exhaled sharply. “Neither one of those girls was my responsibility, Peeta. I had less pull than you are crediting me with.” They stared at one another for several seconds until Haymitch finally dropped his eyes. “A lot of decisions were made in those final days. Annie’s usefulness to the revolution weighed against her potential for distraction. Finnick himself kept her in the dark. Johanna was a tougher call. We had her on radar, but Plutarch … I don’t know, Peeta. I don’t have the answers.”  
  
He sighed heavily, and Peeta looked at him closely for the first time in days. His eyes were hollow, sunken, with a yellow tinge. His complexion was sallow and his cheeks gaunt. He realized that Haymitch was, indeed, dying. Overwhelming guilt flooded his being, and he reached for Haymitch’s arm. “Haymitch, I don’t want to spend whatever time you have left, feuding with you. We can’t undo the past.”  
  
Haymitch nodded in response before moving toward him and pulling him roughly into a hug. Peeta gripped him hard and patted him on the back before releasing him. “Why don’t you join us for supper?”  
  
“Oh … uh … not much of an appetite these days.”  
  
Peeta grimaced slightly. “I think we need to tell the kids. At least Pearl and Koal. Pearl’s beginning to wonder what’s going on.”  
  
Haymitch turned to the window that faced the Everdeen-Mellark household. “I’ve been dreading that one but it’s time I suppose. I’ll get my coat.” He returned pulling on his old blue jacket. “I guess I should apologize to the little guy too.”  
  
Peeta clapped him on the back as they headed out the door, passing within inches of Harold, the still-disgruntled gander.


	3. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games characters and settings belong to Suzanne Collins.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I know that the topic is a little heavy, but I hope I bring dignity to the subject matter. Comments welcome!

Predictably, it was Pearl who took the news the hardest. Initially, she sat in shocked silence, while Koal asked questions. Hunter and Ivy were already tucked in bed when Haymitch disclosed his secret. 

Never one to mince words, Haymitch was seemingly at a loss as he looked at the two young faces before him. Finally, “Pearl, Koal, I remember the days you were born. I held you in my arms and understood much more about the complexities of life than I had ever understood to that point. A baby begins life without any expectations, no prejudices, no hurt.”

Haymitch took a moment to study their faces as they listened intently. “Pearl, you were a beautiful baby. After everything we had been through, it was hard to believe that such a perfect little piece of humanity could ever exist. But your parents proved three more times that they could create perfection.” 

Pearl almost smiled, but she knew that she was finally receiving an explanation for the past several months of Haymitch’s ebbing strength, so she quickly bit it back.

“You two are growing up and becoming the young adults that your parents can be proud of it.” He paused again, and drew in a big breath. “I guess, I’m beating around the bush. In my life, I’ve been pretty glib about sharing news, bad or good, but suddenly … . Here it is, straight out no bull … crap. I went to the doctor a few weeks ago and found out that I have cancer. I’ve decided against treatment, and I only have a little while to live.”

Pearl’s eyes found her mother’s and silently questioned the validity of his statement. At her mother’s single nod, her focus shifted back to Haymitch.

“Does it hurt?” Koal questioned, his gray eyes reflecting concern.

“It does, but the doc gave me medicine. Get this, her name is ‘Amazing.’” He chuckled to himself as he tried to alter the mood in the room. No one joined in the laughter. “I … uh … don’t feel too much pain these days, just tired all the time.”

“Is there something you can do?” Koal persisted.

“Well, there’s treatment, but as I was telling your parents, I think I would rather pass on naturally.”

“How much longer?”

Haymitch hesitated at this. He really would have preferred not to venture into this territory. “Weeks to a few months.”

It was at that point that Pearl finally spoke her voice calm and controlled, “There’s a treatment?”

He considered Pearl for a moment. Apart from her blue eyes, she was the picture of Katniss at that age except for the fact that her eyes betrayed only youthful innocence, and not persistent storms like her mother’s at that age. “Yes, Pearl, there’s a treatment. Organ transplant coupled with chemotherapy.”

“And you’d be well?”

“Well is relative, Kiddo. I may or may not be categorized as ‘cancering.’ It’s pretty advanced, though, it’s eating my bones.”

“But you could have treatment and you are choosing not to?”

“Look, Sweetie, I’m tired little girl. It’s been a long, loooonnnnnng life. Please under … .”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE GIVING UP WITHOUT A FIGHT! GIVING UP, GRANDPA. THAT’S JUST … .” But she jumped to her feet and ran out of the room before she finished. The four in the living room listened to her feet pounding up the stairs and the sound of her door slamming shut.

“Well, that was … .” Peeta started.

“It sure was,” Haymitch smiled ruefully. “She’s got that Everdeen fire in her, that’s for sure.” He turned toward Koal who sat quietly looking in the direction of his departed sister. “Do you have anything else you need to know?”

Koal shook his head, “I hope you don’t suffer long.” Haymitch nodded his thanks. “In biology, we learned the sustainability of life, but in psychology we learned that emotionally, some people cannot sustain their own life.”

Haymitch narrowed his eyes at the young man. More than anything, he hated psycho-babble, but there was truth to it. Emotionally, he could no longer carry the burdens heaped on him by life. He leaned back, “It’s been fifty-three years since I won the Hunger Games. I thought that outlasting forty-seven kids was as bad as it would get, but Snow had other plans. Killed my brother and my mother. Killed my girl.”

Katniss and Peeta, along with Haymitch and Johanna, had “the talk” with Koal just a few months prior, so he was well aware of their history, and that of the Hunger Games. Pearl’s talk had been three years prior, and had caused a great deal of consternation before it actually took place. However, it had went well, and Koal’s talk was even better. By the time Hunter is of age, they would have the process down pat. 

Haymitch rubbed a hand across his eyes wiping stray tears. “By the time I buried my family, I thought it couldn’t get any worse but twenty-three years of dead tributes have a way of making you feel such a profound guilt that there’s no rising above it. It weighs you down, and makes you feel small like. Worthless. 

“I don’t know much about afterlife. Maybe the moment I die will be it. Nothing after, and that might be best. Maybe there is a heaven, and I doubt I have a prayer to get there. No pun intended.” He chuckled at his joke. “If there’s a hell, though, I’m pretty certain that’s where I’m headed, and it can’t be worse than this personal hell I’ve lived in since I was stupid enough to win those games. Please understand, Koal.”

“I do, I guess,” Koal answered slowly and carefully. “Pearl will come around. Just give her time.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a bit of time shortage, but hell, I’ll not push her.” Haymitch turned to Katniss and Peeta, “Sure could use your way with words. Not your’s, Sweetheart.” He grinned and pushed himself off the couch, and shuffled toward the door. “Night, everyone.”

“Good night, Haymitch,” Peeta and Katniss called out. The door clicked behind him.

“I’ll go up,” Peeta said and started to rise.

“No, let me,” Katniss said, and moved quickly toward the entry where the staircase led upwards. She made her way to Pearl's room, attempting to control her thoughts. Pearl’s room was on the second floor, down the hall from her parent’s room. Katniss paused before rapping three times. Not waiting for permission, she moved into the room and found Pearl face down on the bed.

“Go away,” Pearl’s muffled voice called out.

“No,” said Katniss firmly but added, “it’s better to talk things out.”

Pearl, upon hearing Katniss’s voice, turned over. Her eyes puffy and red, and her face streaked with tears. “Oh, Mama,” she sobbed, reaching toward her. “Why?”

Katniss held her daughter close, as she stroked her hair. “Pearl, remember when we talked about the Hunger Games three years ago?” Pearl nodded. “There were some things we left out or glossed over.”

Pearl pulled back and assessed her mother. “Like what?”

“Like all the guilt we were left with after the games. Survivor guilt. If your father had died, then I would have too. In fact, I went into the second games with a mission to make sure your dad survived, even though that would have meant me dying. I couldn’t face the guilt. Even today, I have bouts of it. Mostly about Prim. I wanted to die after she was killed.”

“But Grandpa’s games were so long ago, I don’t … .”

“Baby Girl, Haymitch has even more guilt in his system than your father and I combined. A lot of kids died while he was a mentor.”

“But he didn’t kill them, Mom. He didn’t!” Pearl said emphatically.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t change anything in his mind, Baby Girl. It’s so complicated. Grandpa Haymitch is ready to go now. We aren’t ready to let him go, but Haymitch has lived his life on his own terms since the war. He’s facing this the way he needs to.”

Katniss’s words brought a fresh torrent of tears from Pearl. Katniss rocked her gently as she listened to her choked sobs. After several minutes, Pearl’s sobs abated to hiccups.

“I’m going to miss him, Mom,” Pearl’s voice was small.

“Me too,” Katniss said, as tears welled in her eyes. A moment later, she was crying in earnest as memories of Haymitch assaulted her.

Her first real memory of him was falling off the stage in a drunken stupor. Her next memories were of sarcastic Haymitch making jokes at her and Peeta’s expense. 

But their were other memories. Haymitch holding her hand after a bad episode with Peeta. Haymitch standing in for her father at their wedding. Haymitch and his geese.

Prevailing above all else, though, were the memories of Haymitch with the children. Holding baby Pearl in his arms, and taking her round to the paintings in the room and explaining each to her as if she were a college graduate and not a toothless baby. 

She remembered all the times, Haymitch would take Pearl’s hand and hold her upright as she made her faltering steps. How he had delighted in each child to the point where he was by far the favored babysitter.

Eventually, mother and daughter were cried out. Katniss eased herself down on Pearl’s bed and lay holding her.

An hour later, Peeta found them asleep together. He spread a blanket over them, and kissed each goodnight before turning out the light in the bedroom.

Pearl woke up early and extricated herself from her mother’s arms. Katniss awoke and blinked sleepily. 

“I’m going to go over and check on him,” Pearl whispered.

Katniss nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Pearl shook her head and moved toward the bathroom. Her face bore the remnants of the previous evening’s tears, and she quickly doused it with cold water.

Pearl headed down the stairs and saw her father in the kitchen, already working on breakfast. He still had the bakery, and occasionally took a shift or two, but his family was his priority

“Princess? Are you okay?”

“No, Daddy,” Pearl whispered, and he held out his arms. She walked quickly toward him and collapsed into them, once again crying.

A few minutes later, she pushed away and roughly rubbed her face. “I’m going over.” Peeta nodded and released her.

The walk was less than a minute to Haymitch’s front gate. She passed by Harold, who honked noisily in her wake, but did not mount an attack. She pushed open the door, and reeled as the odor assaulted her. She quickly brought her hand up to close off her nose, as her eyes darted around the unkempt room.

Stealthily, Pearl moved to the darkened living room. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the form of Haymitch. She made her way across the room and kneeled in front of him.

His eyes were sunken with dark circles around them, and his face was drawn into a grimace.

“Gramps?” Pearl whispered softly as she ran her finger along his unshaven cheek. “Grandpa?” Her voice took on a slightly louder timber.

Haymitch stirred and opened one eye sleepily. When he saw Pearl kneeling by his side, he half-smiled at her. “Hey there, Pearl.” His voice was rough with sleep.

“Grandpa, if I ask you for something, will you do it?” She had Katniss’s directness, and Haymitch’s smile spread. With Pearl, he felt genuine emotion, not laced with his usual sarcastic undertones. He pushed himself up with a grunt.

“Pearl, my baby girl, I’m not going to agree to something I might not be able to fulfill. I don’t know if I can fully explain myself to you, but I’m going to … try. Okay?” Pearl nodded and Haymitch continued. Growing up in District 12 with the Hunger Games hanging over your head made it seem like someone was always waiting with a noose in their hands. I was maybe eight or nine when I first really understood what they were all about. But there was so much more.”

He pushed himself to fully sitting. “If you were born in the Seam, there was very little chance of escaping it. Your father worked in the mines, and sometimes your mother did as well and most kids lost a parent growing up, either to the mines or disease. 

“When you reached twelve, you knew you had to hold your breath for six years. I remember my first reaping like it was yesterday. My mother dressed me in my best shirt and pants, and combed my hair down flat. She kissed my cheek and wished me well, and my father slapped me on the back but couldn’t look at me. My little brother was still in diapers then.”

Haymitch paused, his eyes glassy. “Not quite a month later, my father became ill and there was no one to help him. The apothecary was only for merchant families. He slipped away after after a few days, and I became man of the family. The only way we could survive was by me taking tesserae which effectively tripled the number of times my name went in the following year.”

He reached for bottle on the end table and spun the cover, extracting two pills which he swallowed without water. “By the time I was fifteen, I decided I wanted to go into the arena. I saw the way the victors lived and I wanted that life. Boy was I stupid.” A sardonic grin spread across his face.

“Each day in the arena stole a little piece of my soul. I survived but forty-seven others did not, and it made me feel empty. I got home and moved my mother and brother in here, along with my girl. I wanted more than anything to stop the feelings of dread that infiltrated my every day life. Snow, though, sought his revenge, and took all the people I loved from me. My guilt was overwhelming. As sure as if I had plunged a knife into them myself, they were gone, and it was my fault.”

“Grandpa … .” But he held his hand to stop her. 

“That was when I felt the rest of my soul slip away. I was an empty shell, going through the motions. The next year I mentored, and managed to get the two in my care, killed right off the bat. That’s when I started drinking … to forget. I became a useless pawn in the game. Year after year, children with worried eyes looked to me for guidance. Year after year, I disappointed them and offered them increasingly worse advice.”

Haymitch upended a water bottle and drank deeply. “Then your parents came along, and despite me, became fan favorites. Your parents were strong in their own ways, and when your mom scored an eleven, I knew I had to rise to the occasion. But it was all them. Sure, I pulled a few strings, but it was on them, and for the first time in years, I felt … hope.”

He stood and moved to the mantel, carefully pulling framed photos closer to examine them. “I screwed up. A lot. And it nearly cost your parents everything, but you know, they managed to make it to the other side, and somehow, they are normal … or at least as normal as they can be given the circumstances. I, on the other hand, am eternally broken and more than a little bitter.”

Haymitch turned back to her. “It’s time, Baby Girl. This old man is tired, and I’ve outlived my usefulness.”

“Grandpa, no … .”

“Sweetheart,” he raised his hand. “It’s time. I can feel it. I don’t have the energy to fight it. Besides, the others are calling to me. Twenty-three years of tributes, my parents, my brother and my girl. Everyone’s life cut short by me, and it’s time for me to join them. On my own terms. I don’t want to survive just for the sake of surviving, and I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

Pearl swiped at the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

“Come here,” he beckoned, holding out his arms. “I love you, Sweetie, and I want you know that if things were different, I wouldn’t want to let you go for anything. Please understand, and please remember the good memories we shared.”

Pearl nodded, the sobs wracking her body as she realize the pointlessness of her arguments when he had so resolutely made up his mind. Eventually, she calmed. “Can I … can I help you with anything, Grandpa?”

“I would like that,” he said, as he pushed her to arm’s length. “No more tears, okay?”

She nodded. “I love you though.”

Haymitch swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. “I love you too, Girly. Forever.” He pulled her into a crushing hug, and this time, it was Haymitch who wept.


	4. And So It Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The Hunger Games characters and locations belong to Suzanne Collins.

Katniss stepped onto the porch, rubbing a weary hand across her face. The sun was rising, a scarlet fireball in the white-gray of early morning and the birds were already singing, promising another gorgeous late spring day — totally incongruent to the events of the morning.  
  
Haymitch was dying. Had been dying for weeks, but now it was imminent and no one was truly ready — except perhaps Haymitch, who had seemed more than prepared to move on for quite sometime. His skin had taken on the same yellow caste as his eyes, which in turn, had now spread to his mouth.  
  
Two weeks earlier, Haymitch had ventured across the street for Katniss’s birthday party. He smiled blandly and picked at his cake. Unlike other gatherings, Haymitch was mostly mute … until he offered to toast her. Raising his glass of water, Haymitch said, “Sweetheart, if I could turn back the clock … I wouldn’t change a damn thing. You’re a helluva woman. Take care of her, Boy.”  
  
It was during the party, that even little Hunter realized something was amiss with Grandpa. Ivy, who was very attuned to the feelings of others, had guessed that he was sick about a month before. Katniss hated explaining death to her children. It was the one fact of life she dreaded more than any other. She would arther have told Hunter about the baby making process; but instead, she sat with him cradled in her lap as she and Peeta explained that Grandpa Haymitch was sick and that he would be leaving them soon. Huge tears cascaded down Hunter’s face, and both parents held him close between them.  
  
The day after the party, Haymitch took a turn for the worse. After more than fifty years of sleeping on the couch, Peeta and Gale helped him upstairs to a room that had never been occupied, and the vigil began. At least one person was with him at all times.  
  
Peeta arrived in the early morning hours and tried to tempt him with some of his favorite dishes. Haymitch usually humored him with a bite or two, but then would turn his head away and clamp his lips shut.  
  
Johanna arrived in time for lunch and joined Peeta in eating whatever he prepared. She stayed the afternoon, usually allowing Haymitch time to rest before Pearl arrived right after school. She spent hours reading to him, or sometimes they played simple paper games until he would grow too tired and would nap.  
  
Mid-evening, Gale came and he would merely sit with him until Katniss arrived for the night shift. No one argued when she said she wanted the late night shift. But it was taking its toll. Night after night, she sat by his side and watched the blankets move up and down in tandem with his breaths. Many nights he would awaken with a start, crying out in pain or fear. It was during those times that she would administer the cocktail of drugs prescribed by the Capitol physicians.  
  
Some nights they talked. Haymitch relived his reckless youth and told Katniss tales of the young man whose only dream was to get married and work in the mines. Other nights, delirium swept Haymitch away on a tide so swift it took Katniss’s breath away. She would struggle to comprehend his nonsensical ramblings — to ward off the unseen monsters that crept near to Haymitch — side effects of the very powerful drugs he was taking.  
  
In the morning, bone weary and depressed, she would greet Peeta at the door with a kiss, and return to her home to spend time with the children before they headed out for the day.  
  
Last night had been worse than usual, though. The evening started out normal enough with Haymitch resting in fits and starts. But suddenly, around eleven o’clock, he had awakened, frightened and panicked. He yelled at invisible monsters to, “Get the hell away from me. I’m not ready!” His words frightened Katniss because Haymitch had always maintained that he was more than ready to meet his fate. She tried to calm him. She tried to administer his medication, but he pushed her away roughly. “Get away, don’t let them get you too!”  
  
Haymitch who had always been so steady — the rock in the storm — was losing control over the situation. Katniss had backed out the door, and called for the only person who might be able to help. Peeta. She didn’t even have to say a word. His brisk, “On my way,” met her ear the moment he picked up. A minute later, she heard the front door open, and Peeta pounded up the stairs.  
  
His eyes took in the scene at once, and he covered the distance to the bed in a heartbeat. Kneeling beside Haymitch’s side, he reached out and grasped the old man’s hand, and much like he had with the Morphling on the beach so many years ago, talked calmly to him, easing him toward the inevitable.  
  
“It’s okay, Haymitch. You’ll be okay. We’ll be right here with you. Right here. We’re not going to let you go, not alone, Haymitch. Do you hear me?” Katniss kneeled on the other side and took his other hand, mirroring Peeta. Some of the fright was leaving his face. Some of the rigidity was slipping from Haymitch’s muscles.  
  
“Katniss is here, Haymitch. I’m here.” The wildness in Haymitch’s eyes began to recede and he sank back into the pillow.  
  
Over the course of the next several hours, Peeta took Haymitch on a journey of his life that was so detailed and rich, Katniss could see the vivid picture in her mind’s eye.  
  
“Remember that old oak tree  on the other side of the meadow? The one where you stole your first kiss?” Peeta spoke quietly as Haymitch stared with unseeing eyes toward the ceiling. It had been close to an hour since he blinked last, but still his chest rose and fell on its own. The doctors had said a coma was likely but they had not prepared Katniss for this. Haymitch was there, but not really.  
  
Still, Peeta talked on. Stopping periodically to wipe Haymitch’s face and check surreptitiously for his pulse. Just after five in the morning, Haymitch’s breaths became irregular and Peeta turned to Katniss, “I think you should go outside for a bit.” At his words, she nodded curtly and bolted from the room like a deer.  
  
She ran down the stairs, and unto his front porch breathing deeply and trying to steady herself as she watched the sunrise in the eastern sky.  
  
“Did the old geezer kick off yet?” Johanna’s voice startled her and she turned quickly causing the other woman to laugh uproariously. “Tad jumpy, hey?” Johanna sat on the porch rail, her back against the house. “Who do you think will be the last one to survive?”  
  
Katniss quickly turned away. In moments like these she could almost forget her decades-old friendship with the other woman. Johanna always had a way of asking the probing, if somewhat inappropriate, questions. The ones that Katniss preferred not to think about.  
  
The silence dragged on between the pair as the sun rose in the sky until finally Jo’s voice cut through the crisp morning air. “You know, Haymitch took care of me during my first season. I found out from one of the other victors that he intervened on my behalf to get me … the less undesirable Capitolites.” She laughed humorlessly, the sound foreign on this morning.  
  
Another long silence, then, “The night you pulled an eleven out of your ass, I went upstairs to fuck him for a chance for my tributes to align with you.” Katniss squeezed her eyes shut and suddenly wished she were back upstairs listening to Peeta’s voice instead of Johanna’s ghoulish trip down memory lane. “But the bastard wouldn’t bed me. He turned me away saying you wouldn’t align with anyone. Can you imagine? Turning down a fuck because his princess was too high and mighty righteous to align with another tribute.”  
  
Johanna’s bitter tone surprised her. She turned sharply. “What’s your problem, Jo?” Jo’s eyes were hard, brittle with remembrance, but as she turned to Katniss, her face dissolved into a mask of sorrow, and all at once she was sobbing, huge heaving sobs.  
  
“I … I … I … I’m not r-r-r-ready for him to go yet,” Johanna forced out through her tears. Katniss moved quickly to her friend and pulled her in. Jo’s confession opened the floodgate within Katniss, and soon both were soaking the others shoulder with their tears.  
  
Neither heard the tread of Peeta as he approached, but both looked up when his arms engulfed them.  “Is he … ?” But Katniss could not bring herself to finish the sentence.  
  
Peeta nodded quietly, “A few minutes ago. Ultimately, quite peacefully. He seemed to recognize me one last time, but I can’t be sure, and then he was gone.” The three wept together for several minutes until Peeta nudged them both gently. “We have to carry on quickly if we want to honor his final wishes. I’ll get Gale.”  
  
His words caused both Katniss and Johanna to get a grip on themselves, and they headed off on their appointed missions. Johanna moved in the direction of Peeta’s former victor home. The home was a temporary residence for visitors and now housed, BeeTee, Annie, Flynn and Effie. Peeta headed to Johanna and Gale’s house and Katniss headed home.  
  
Her task loomed in front of her and she wished now that she had rethought the entire plan when roles were assigned. It was her responsibility to tell the children. She entered the home quietly, and discovered her mother puttering in the kitchen. Everyone who cared had been summoned in the past several days to make sure they would be on hand. Her mother looked up and Katniss nodded, her mother nodded back in silent affirmation.  
  
Katniss continued to the stairs. The plan was simple: tell Pearl first and allow her to cry it out, and then move on to Koal, and so on. More than once she had smiled to herself that somehow or another, she and Peeta had managed to fill most of the rooms on this floor. As she turned down the hallway, she noticed that Pearl’s door stood open, and was surprised to find her room already empty.  
  
Koal’s door was ajar and she moved quickly to it and pushed inside. There, sitting in the window seat were both of her oldest children, staring in the direction of Haymitch’s house.  
  
“He’s gone,” Pearl said, and her voice was surprisingly strong. “We got up when you called Daddy, and we’ve been watching ever since. We’re all cried out now.”  
  
Koal turned toward Katniss, “We’ll go downstairs and help get the picnic ready.”  
  
Her children hugged her tightly, and headed out the door. They were stronger that she realized, but really that shouldn’t have surprised her. Both Katniss and Peeta had raised them to be strong, each in their own way. She knew there would be tears once again, but for the moment they were holding together.  
  
She moved to Ivy Grace’s room. She was the girly girl in the family and her room reflected it, all soft pinks and whites. Katniss quietly moved into the room and Ivy turned her head toward her, her tiny face streaked with tears. “It’s Grandpa, right? I knew when I woke up and Daddy wasn’t here.” Katniss rushed to her side, no one anticipated the dead of night vigil that took both parents from the house.  
  
Mother and daughter clung to each other as a fresh torrent of tears wracked the little girl. After several minutes, she quieted and drew back. “It’s for the best, Mama. He was really hurting.” Each time Ivy visited Haymitch, she focused on making him more comfortable, and both Katniss and Peeta had marveled at their eight-year-old daughter’s healing nature. Katniss nodded.  
  
“Can you do Mama a big favor, Sweetie?” Ivy nodded. “Can you get dressed and go downstairs and help get the picnic ready?” Again she nodded, and climbed out of bed to get herself ready.  
  
The last stop was the nursery, Hunter’s room. Someday, he might be moved to the room at the far end of the hall, but Katniss wasn’t ready for that much distance between her and her baby. Peeta had painted a mural of a forest in the room, with beautiful trees and all kinds of animals. Hunter’s bed had been replaced by a “tree house” in the corner where he slept.  
  
Peeta had taken great care to fulfill the wishes of each of his children when it came to their bedrooms, but Hunter’s tree house was a masterpiece. Peeta had spent days walking through the forest until finally setting upon a medium-sized oak that had been struck by lightning. Peeta had measured it carefully and then brought in the craftsmen to cut it to his specification. When he moved the trunk with limbs still attached into their home, Katniss had laughed.  
  
But days of hammering and sawing behind closed doors, during which no one was allowed entrance, eventually led to the unveiling. Since it was Hunter’s room, he was allowed several minutes to explore and everyone, including Haymitch, stood outside as the little boy whooped, hollered and giggled. Finally, he had come to the door, flushed and sweaty and threw it open, a wide grin on his face. No one knew what to expect, but the full sized tree house took everyone’s breath away. When Katniss had first moved to this home, she had been struck by the seeming uselessness of the twelve foot walls in each room, but Peeta had used them to his advantage. The result was a treehouse with a bed in it large enough to accommodate a family sleep over.  
  
Katniss climbed the ladder half expecting to find him wide awake, but he slept peacefully in his camouflage footie pajamas. He clutched a large stuffed rabbit in one arm as he sucked his thumb. They lamented over the best way to break him of it but he really only did it at night, and every “cure” seemed to bring with it some detriment for him. For now, his habit didn’t bother anyone else, so they decided to let him be.  
  
“Hunter?” Katniss whispered as she lay down next to him. He stirred slightly and opened his eyes just a bit, a sleepy grin so much like Peeta’s, spread across his face.  
  
“Mommy?” He reached for her then and hugged her to himself. Hunter never woke up grumpy and always looked for the comfort of his parents arms upon waking. “Where’s Daddy?”  
  
“Daddy is over at Grandpa's.” He drew back and studied her for a moment. “Remember the trip we told you about?” Hunter nodded. “Grandpa started his journey this morning.”  
  
He was thoughtful a moment, his gray eyes serious. “Grandpa will be fine, Mommy.” Katniss nodded, wanting to believe it was true. “He’s got Auntie Prim, and your daddy, and Daddy’s family, and a lot of other people to help him out. They’ll show him the way.”  
  
Katniss tried to mask her surprise at his words, but really she was flabbergasted. While they had explained Haymitch’s death as a journey to their youngest son, they had never mentioned all those who had marched on before him. So she wondered how he managed to put it all together. He seemed so at peace with it though, and no tears were evident, that Katniss chose not to pry.  
  
Instead, she pulled him closer. They laid quietly for several minutes until they heard the door downstairs. “Time to get up, Lil Man. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.” He scrambled to his feet and scooted down the ladder, chattering as he went. His looks were all from Katniss, but his personality was most definitely Peeta.  
  
Just as she was about to leave, Hunter called, “Mommy?” She stopped and turned. “I love you.” His eyes twinkled, and she couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“I love you too, Lil Man, to the ends of the universe.” His crooked grin swept across his face once more before he began stripping off his pajamas.  
  
Katniss quickly changed clothes before heading downstairs. The picnic lunch was prepared. Her mother, Pearl and Koal had retreated to their rooms to change clothes. Hunter and Ivy Grace sat at the counter eating bananas. “Hi Mommy,” Hunter said, his voice muffled by the banana.  
  
“You two need more than that this morning,” Katniss said as she pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard. “We’ve got a long hike ahead of us today.” She moved briskly to the refrigerator and pulled out eggs and ham. Generally, meal preparation was a team activity with she and Peeta taking the lead, but the hectic schedule of the past few weeks had altered their orderly routine.  
  
Katniss quickly cracked a dozen eggs into a bowl and mixed them together. “How about you two man the toaster?” Her two little helpers jumped to assist, chattering happily together. Katniss smiled, a genuine smile. She would miss Haymitch and his surly ways, who was so much like her. But her family would carry her through. Her strength in the coming days would come from them.  
  
Soon the smell of scrambled eggs and ham filled the kitchen, drawing the older children and her mother. Pearl and Koal set the table, as Ivy and Hunter prepared the toast. The back door opened and Peeta walked him, his face registered surprise as he took in the normal scene before him. He crossed to Katniss, and hugged her from behind.  
  
“Everything okay?” Peeta whispered softly as he kissed her ear. Katniss nodded.  
  
“More than I would have expected. How about over there?”  
  
“Everything is set. As soon as we’ve eaten we’ll move it downstairs.” He squeezed her a little tighter, before moving to the refrigerator and pulling out juice and milk.  
  
The family ate together, with Hunter providing the morning entertainment. When Pearl was born, Peeta told Katniss about how he and his brothers were expected to be seen and not heard, and how he wanted his children to always feel they could speak freely. The result was at times chaotic as they laughed and teased one another.  
  
“Whatdoya,” Hunter said, as he used his fingers to rearrange the food in his mouth, “call a frog that can jump six feet in the air?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Koal responded patiently. Each of the family had taken turns responding to Hunter’s jokes. “A green frog with yellow stripes?”  
  
Hunter squealed, “Noooo! A frog that can jump six feet in the air!” He giggled wildly at his own joke, making his family laugh in return. Peeta reached across and ruffled his youngest son’s hair.  
  
All too soon, breakfast was finished and each one took their plates to the sink and helped clear the table. The mood in the room became decidedly quieter.  
  
As they finished their morning tasks, “Pearl, Koal, come with me, please,” Peeta said quietly, leading them from the house and across the street.  
  
“Where are they going, Mommy?” Hunter asked.  
  
“They are going to get Grandpa, so he can continue his journey,” she said, as she bent to his level. “Today, we are going to bring him to the forest.” Hunter nodded solemnly, as he reached for a hug. Ivy Grace moved in quickly, and the three hugged together.  
  
They walked outside to find Jo, Annie, Effie, BeeTee, Delly and her family, already waiting. Delly rushed forward to take one of the baskets, and Jo reached out to Ivy Grace, arguably her favorite.  
  
Just then, Haymitch’s front door swung open and Peeta and Gale shouldered the pine box between them. The box was tradition in the old District 12, and that’s what Haymitch had requested. Peeta’s artistry, though, had transformed it into something beautiful. A collage of pictures of Haymitch from childhood to adult could be seen. There were even ones of him with his geese.  
  
Effie sucked in a quick breath when she noticed a side dedicated to her and Haymitch. Long distant memories that Peeta had so realistically added to the mix.  
  
When Haymitch first requested the homemade box, everyone balked because no one wanted to face the grim reality, but he had been insistent. “I wanna see the box you guys put me in. I wanna make sure it’s … solid … and not something flimsy.” He had cackled like it was some great joke, but his eyes pleaded with them. It was all part of the process as far as he was concerned.  
  
Jo, Peeta and Katniss had crafted the casket together. Jo acquired the wood and fit it together. Afterward, Peeta had begun to paint and the project took weeks. Katniss, meanwhile, lined the inside with a soft leather that she and Koal had tanned together. A pillow was prepared for the bottom. Eventually, the outside was covered in a waterproof coating.  
  
“It’s ready,” Peeta said, as he approached Haymitch, who was sitting on his porch.  Haymitch struggled to his feet and followed Peeta to the small shed in back of their house. Once inside, Peeta stood back and allowed Haymitch to examine it.  
  
He made his way slowly around the box, running his hands reverently over the pictures of his mother and brother, his girl, himself as a young man. He grinned and winked in Peeta’s direction when he reached Effie’s side. Both ends of the casket were dedicated to Haymitch’s tribute friends who had passed before with a rather large, toothy rendering of Chaff the center of one collage, and Finnick the center of the other.  
  
But it was the top that took his breath away: Haymitch holding each of the babies, Haymitch holding their hands as toddlers, and lifting them above his head, Haymitch with each of the children as they grew older. Decidedly lacking were depictions of Katniss and Peeta.  
  
“Boy,” Haymitch turned to Peeta, with tears coursing down his face, “This ain’t right. Where’s the Sweetheart? Where’s you?”  
  
Peeta lifted the cover, and inside were all the moments they had shared through the years. But it was the large family depiction centered above where his head would eventually lie, that stunned him. At Katniss’s instance the previous fall, they had taken a family photo. Haymitch stood at the back, his arms around Pearl and Koal. Peeta and Katniss sat with a child on each lap.  
  
“I wanted it private,” Peeta said, “the moments we shared were not for the whole world to see.”  
  
Haymitch nodded. He ran his hand across the fine leather and smartly crafted pillow. “Thank you.”  
  
He closed the lid, and for the first time noticed the inscription Peeta had written along the edge of the lid: “Haymitch, may your journey be swift and easy. May you find the peace the eluded you here. May you know that you were loved.”  
  
“Dammit, Boy, this was supposed to be a plain pine box.” But he pulled Peeta into his arms for a hug. As he returned the hug, Peeta was taken aback by how fragile Haymitch had become.  
  
Three weeks later, as Peeta hefted the box, he was stunned by how little it actually weighed. Pearl and Koal lifted directly behind him, while Gale, Flynn O’Dair, and Chester, Delly’s husband, handled the other side. They headed for the woods, with Katniss, Hunter, Jo and Ivy, leading the small group of mourners. Progress was slow, but steady. At about the halfway point, Katniss hoisted Hunter to her shoulders as he seemed to be growing weary of the long walk. No one spoke, not even the children.  
  
Finally, they arrived at their destination. A sprawling old oak, set on a hillside, overlooking a deep valley. Years before, Katniss and Peeta had persuaded a very reluctant Haymitch to join them for a picnic in the forest. Pearl was just a toddler who rode on Peeta’s shoulders, and Koal was just a baby, snuggled close to his mother’s chest in his carrier. Haymitch grumbled and complained the entire way, but once they arrived he stood in awe.  
  
“Bury me here,” he said with finality. “This is it. I’ve always wondered where I would be buried. I was afraid it would be some Capitol cemetery, but this is it.” Peeta and Katniss were a bit taken aback by his words, but years later made good on the promise.  
  
Peeta, Rory and Gale had dug the pit and created a brick enclosure to shield the pine box from some of the elements.  
  
The group of six carefully placed the coffin on the cross ropes which were tethered to anchors. At the appointed time, they would lower it into the grave and seal it before covering it in dirt. Once in place, Peeta reached over and opened the lid. Haymitch would have hated this part, but everyone agreed they wanted a final moment to say goodbye.  
  
Effie gasped as the lid raised. Death had been far kinder to Haymitch than life ever had been, and his sallow complexion had changed to an almost lifelike tone. His face was surprisingly free of lines and worry, and he looked peaceful. Peeta had dressed him in a white shirt and knotted a black tie around his neck, topped by a gray suit jacket.  For Katniss, it was as if time had moved backward some 30 years, and her old mentor lay sleeping before her.  
  
Peeta cleared his throat, “There won’t be a formal service. Anyone who wishes to say a few words or just come up, may due so. Pearl has asked to be first.”  
  
Her eyes were puffy from crying, and Katniss wanted to reach out and hold her, but she waited, “Grandpa, people will say all kinds of things about the man you were but I know the true you. I know the man who read endless stories to me when I was little, and conspired with me to eat all kinds of sugary treats at your house when I was little. You used to say, ‘Have another one baby girl. Let’s give your parents a different kind of nightmare to keep them occupied.’ I never really understood. I would just go home and end up running all over the house and terrorizing Mom and Dad for hours after. You were kind and gentle. Loving and sometimes gruff, but you were first and foremost, my grandfather, my guardian. Sleep well.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the group as she placed a photo of her and Haymitch in the coffin.  
  
Koal stepped forward, never one for too many words, “Gramps, give ‘em hell.” The group chuckled as Katniss shot her son a disapproving glance.  
  
Ivy Grace stepped forward, “Grandpa, I brought you some flowers even though you always say they are the most useless things alive.” She placed the tiny bunch of dandelions that she had picked along the way next to the photo.  
  
Hunter wiggled to get off his mother’s shoulders. Once down, he walked to the coffin. “Don’t be scared, Grandpa, there’s all kinds of people waiting to help you. Auntie Prim is there, and so his Grandpa Everdeen.” Katniss’s mother’s breath caught. “Grandpa Mellark is there too, and so are my uncles. There’s others too, Grandpa, so don’t worry, they’ll help you. They’re waiting for you. And don’t worry about the geese, I’ll take care of them.” Hunter turned away, but then quickly added as an afterthought, “Even Harold.”  
  
One by one, each person said a word or two. Johanna simply approached the coffin and uttered the single word, “Bastard.” While Effie approached and whispered quietly for a moment, and then turned to the group, “We’ll never know what might have been.”  
  
Finally, Peeta spoke, “Haymitch, we’ve spoken a lot during the years I’ve known you, from the advice you gave me in our first games, to the advice you gave me on my wedding night,” he laughed in remembrance, “which as I recall, was totally unnecessary. You’ve shared your wisdom with me. As I grew older, you started to come to me for advice, and I appreciated the subtle change in our relationship. I respected you and looked at you as a father. I realize now, as I did when my own father died, there was still much to be said between us. I wish now I had told you I loved you but I didn’t for whatever reason, and I can’t undo that but I do love you.”  
  
Katniss stepped to Peeta’s side and hugged him close. Her voice broke, as she began speaking, “Haymitch … we’ve sometimes been … at odds but damn you for leaving us.” She bent quickly and gave his cheek a quick kiss.  
  
Koal reached into his pocket and pulled out a panpipe and played an old hymn that echoed across the valley. Peeta lowered the lid once more and locked it in place. As the notes of the song faded, the six casket bearers, stooped to untie the ropes from the anchors. One by one they loosed them, and slowly lowered it into the waiting grave. Once it was settled inside, the ropes were pulled back to the surface.  
  
“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” Peeta said quietly. The six moved to the heavy lid that had been constructed to fit over the top of the brick vault and slid the ropes through the anchors in the top. They grunted and struggled as they made their way to the open pit, and slowly lowered it on top of the vault.  
  
Everyone took turns shoveling the remaining dirt on top, creating a mound. Finally, the large rock was moved atop the grave. On it, a plaque: Haymitch Abernathy - Son, Brother, Lover, Victor, Mentor, Friend, Grandfather.  
  
No spoke as they ate their lunch or raised their glasses in silent toast. No one spoke as they headed home leaving Haymitch behind to rest on the hilltop overlooking the valley.


End file.
